


how to make a fire with a paperclip and a battery

by makurophage



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 2 (two) vague and brief mentions of animal abuse, Blood, But not too bad!, Gen, Psychological Horror, Something is rotten in the state of bokuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 08:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18567697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makurophage/pseuds/makurophage
Summary: “Yeah, I love you too.” Bokuto accepts his embrace limply. “I’m just scared, that’s all.”“I know. Me too. Wanna hold hands?”“I — no, you —" he detaches from Tetsurou’s hold near-violently, taking quick, shaky steps back into the dark. “You’ve got blood on your hands, Kuroo. Why is there blood on your hands?”





	how to make a fire with a paperclip and a battery

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by [hope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confused_Foam/pseuds/Confused_Foam) !! thank you !

“Don’t think we’re supposed to be in here, Kuroo,” Bokuto says, timid.

  


“Oh, yeah?” Tetsurou casts a glance at the outline of him, continuing to press along the walls ahead.

  


Something grimy coats his left hand — the hand not holding his ratty flashlight. That’s to be expected; they’d been clambering through mossy rock-structure for some hours, now, and Tetsurou’s starting to miss the chirp of crickets very dearly. He’s entirely forgotten how they got here in the first place, and he’s sure Bokuto isn’t much better off. 

  


After all, this marks the third time he’s said that exact phrase out loud.

  


“Bo, what’s a good memory you have of us?”

  


“Uh,” Bokuto’s voice is closer now, and something’s tugging loosely on Tetsurou’s sleeve. “Five-minute crafts? That was pretty funny.”

  


“Right, and the stupid water bottle life-jacket we made. Still in one of our closets, I think.”

  


“And the pool-cover water slide.”

  


“And baking soda.”

  


“And Yaku.”

  


Tetsurou laughs. It sounds damp, wrong, like it isn’t his own. “And Yaku,” he repeats.

  


“Yaku…” Bokuto inhales sharply. “I miss Yaku.”

  


“Yeah, so do I.”

  


They reach another bend, unremarkable to all the previous ones except that the next passageway almost seems even darker than it already is. Tetsurou loosens his grip on the flashlight; it would be awful if he clenched it too hard and it broke, or something. Yeah, that would be awful. Suppose they had extra batteries on them? It wouldn’t hurt to check.

  


“Bo, check your pockets? Do we have extra batteries for the flashlight?”

  


“Don’t think so.” His footsteps slow to a stop, and there’s the sound of furious clothes-shuffling. “Wait, but I  _ do  _ have — what  _ is  _ that —"

  


Tetsurou turns and shines the light at his chest. Bokuto fumbles with the object and brings it into the beam. It’s two paperclips linked together.

  


“Woah. Well, now we know we can make a fire if we need to.”

  


“With  _ paperclips?” _

  


“And one of the batteries in this thing.” Tetsurou drums his fingers on the flashlight. “I mean, I’ve never done it, but logically it’s possible.”

  


“Kuroo,” Bokuto says, suddenly and very loudly, “we’ve been stuck here for god fucking  _ knows  _ how long, and it’s dark, we have no food left, and worst of all have no memory of how we got in here, much less how to get fucking out. You tell me if you think you’re gonna rely on fucking  _ logic  _ when it sure hasn’t showed face this far.”

  


“Bo, you gotta calm down,” Tetsurou says, because it’s the only thing he can say automatically. He hadn’t expected Bokuto to act out like this at all. The unfamiliar tone of voice makes something viscous settle in his throat. “We’re gonna be fine. Remember when we thought we were going to die on that walk through the forest? And we were fine. And — and we’re  _ gonna  _ be fine, again.”

  


Bokuto shoves the paperclips back into his pocket. “You don’t believe it, do you.”

  


“What?” Tetsurou takes a step back and lets the hand holding the flashlight fall slack, slightly affronted. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

  


“I don’t know, Kuroo.”

  


Tetsurou searches his dim face confusedly. “Bo…”

  


“Maybe  _ you’re  _ the problem here, huh? Maybe you know the way out, and you’re taking the wrong turns on purpose.”

  


“Alright, what the fuck are you talking about? You and I both know that the path only goes one way. There’s never any crossroads. It’s forward or backward, that’s it.” Tetsurou steps toward him again, confident in his reasoning. “Let’s not fight right now, okay? I love you, and we’re going to get out.”

  


“Yeah, I love you too.” Bokuto accepts his embrace limply. “I’m just scared, that’s all.”

  


“I know. Me too. Wanna hold hands?”

  


“I — no, you —" he detaches from Tetsurou’s hold near-violently, taking quick, shaky steps back into the dark. “You’ve got blood on your hands, Kuroo. Why is there blood on your hands?”

  


“What are you talking about? It’s just dirt and moss.” Tetsurou brings his free hand into the flashlight’s beam, and immediately gasps. The flashlight falls out of his grip, hits the ground with a muted  _ splat _ , and rolls a little toward Bokuto. “What — what the —"

  


“Don’t get any closer, Kuroo.”

  


“What? I’m not trying to, I just — god, I’m sorry, can you pass the flashlight back to me? Please?”

  


Bokuto kicks it back with the toe of his shoe. As the light rolls, Tetsurou catches sight of his eyes, wide and golden, filled with a fear so primal that Tetsurou suddenly feels stricken sick with despair.

  


Forcing himself to look away, Tetsurou examines his bloodied hand more closely. In the light, the fluid looks shiny and freshly red, and smells so strongly of metal he’s bewildered by how it managed to escape his notice before. There are no visible gashes, not a single dent in his skin. 

  


Newly afraid, Tetsurou scrambles to wipe the blood off of his hands and onto the wall, the floor, his jeans,  _ anything, _ and thankfully when he looks again most of the saturated colour has faded into a dusty layer of pink on his palm.

  


He turns his attention back to Bokuto, who’s crouching now, but still staring at him with all the intensity of an animal watching its predator. Something feels a little backward about it, but Tetsurou ignores the feeling in favour of speaking again.

  


“Bokuto?”

  


Bokuto flinches so hard his jacket falls off of one shoulder, trailing the muddy ground. Then he gets to his feet hastily, putting his weight on his back leg as if preparing to run away. Tetsurou catches himself, suddenly. When’d he learn to pay attention to little details like that?

  


“Kuroo, you —" Bokuto’s voice strains into a higher pitch, nearly unrecognizable. “You — you strangled a rabbit.”

  


“What?”

  


“Back then, when we passed that grassy enclosure. You strangled a — a rabbit.” He shuffles further backward. “And then you  _ a-ate —  _ you  _ a—” _

  


“What?” Tetsurou repeats. “No I didn’t. Why the fuck would I do that?”

  


“Then how do you e-explain —"

  


“Besides,” he interrupts, frantic, “we still had, like, granola bars left back then. I remember ‘cause you asked me for one ten or twenty minutes ago. I mean, it’s not like we were starving to death or anything, right? So why would I do that? That’s illogical. And we — we’ve got something sharp with us, don’t we?” Tetsurou pats his jacket for his pocket knife, and takes it out with a flick of the wrist, relieved to find evidence for his case. “If I needed to kill a rabbit anyway, I wouldn’t have just  _ strangled  _ it. That’s just — that would be immoral.”

  


“Oh,  _ immoral,  _ huh? Now you’re talking about morals? I’m telling you, you s-strangled the poor fucking rabbit. That’s why there’s blood on your hands.”

  


“No —"

  


“And then you. Ate. It.” Bokuto’s holding a steady stance now, jaw set. “Raw, and everything. I can’t believe I fucking forgot.”

  


“Forgot what? I have no clue what you’re talking about, Bokuto.” Tetsurou closes and stows his knife with slow movements, deciding to try a different tact. It’s clear that one of them is wrong here, and Tetsurou already knows that memory can’t be trusted. “I’m sorry that I scared you, but there’s literally no logical reason I would have done what you claim I did. It’s likely I picked up a smear of blood on the wall while feeling along it. Or even cut a part of my body on some sharp rock, right? Besides, if the blood was from back in the grassy enclosure, it would be dried-up by now.”

  


At a sloth’s pace, Bokuto relaxes his shoulders, blinking at some spot on the ground slightly ahead of him. Tetsurou’s glad he’s contemplating; this is Bokuto, after all — his best friend. He just wants to get out of here already and go back to doing small crimes against the authorities together, and forget all of this awful lack-of-memory shit.

  


“Okay, I guess you’re right,” Bokuto says, finally. “You’re the most logical person I know, and probably the smartest, next to Kiyoko.”

  


“Aw, Bo…”

  


“Now I’m sure I’m just stupidly fucking paranoid. This place is too weird. It’s probably just force-feeding me false memories or some shit ‘cause it knows I’m scared. Sorry, Kuroo.”

  


“No worries, bro. I know how you feel and I’m glad you came around. Now we can hurry up and leave this depressing shithole, huh?”

  


Tetsurou crouches down and uses a plant growing out of a crack on the wall to rub the remaining blood off his hands.

  


“You’re okay, right?” Bokuto says, walking toward him. “Your hand. Sorry for accusing you. We have water left, but…”

  


“Yeah, we don’t want to waste any. Don’t worry about me, let’s just go.”

  


The trek forward is uneventful for another good half-hour. Tetsurou switches the flashlight (still working, miraculously) to his other hand so Bokuto can hold his clean one, and on they go through dozens and dozens of identical passageways that, if Tetsurou’s brain is to be trusted, seem to get very slightly narrower as they progress.

  


Eventually, they come to a false crossroads. One path leads directly into a grassy enclosure exactly like the one they had seen before, circled in by looming stones, and the other leads straight toward a closed, brick-coloured door.

  


“Kuroo?”

  


Bokuto’s voice sounds much too far away. Tetsurou whips around. “Bokuto? Where are you?”

  


“I’m just standing at the fork, Kuroo. You went right without telling me or anything.”

  


“Oh. Sorry,” Tetsurou says, bewildered by his own fault. “Sorry, I just… I just smelled something over here and wanted to check it out.”

  


“You smelled something?” Bokuto says uncertainly, followed by the sound of sniffing. “Certainly can’t smell anything from here. Look, why don’t you just come back, and we can talk about which way to go?”

  


“Of course,” Tetsurou mouth replies, but for some reason his body still hesitates. There’s something he needs in the grassy enclosure, he thinks. He knows.

  


“I thought I saw a door to the left for a split second, but I don’t want to move without your flashlight.”

  


“Yeah, no, I’m coming back.”

  


Silence. 

  


“You’re not coming back,” Bokuto says, his voice echoing strangely down the fork. He sounds… despondent.

  


“No, I —"

  


“I’m coming to get you.”

  


“No, no, I am! I’m coming back,” Tetsurou says, and with a final glance toward the vibrant green grass, he mechanically turns around and walks back toward Bokuto. One step at a time. Steady.

  


“Alright, good. Now may I please remind you that we have never seen a door this far and the fact that we now see one must mean something, Kuroo.”

  


“Yeah, you’re right.” Tetsurou shines his flashlight toward the door. Its knob has a keyhole in it and, as expected, when Bokuto goes to try it, it’s locked.

  


“Good thing I’m handy with a paperclip,” Bokuto says, winking at Tetsurou. 

  


Immediately Tetsurou feels at ease as Bokuto fishes out the linked paperclips, detaches one, and begins to do his thing. Tetsurou feels so at ease, in fact, that his feet slowly begin to back up again toward the fork. It’s fine if he just checks out the enclosure while Bokuto’s picking the lock, see, he’ll even leave the flashlight with him — Tetsurou crouches down to stab the end of the light into the ground so it shines up onto Bokuto’s hands — and anyway, it won’t take long at all. Just there and back. There’s probably a little stream in there, too, just like the last one, which is a comforting thought. His left hand is beginning to itch with the dried-up —

  


“Kuroo, where are you going?”

  


“Just to the… to the grass. I’ll be back before you finish picking the lock. Counting on you.”

  


As it turns out, Bokuto’s just a millisecond faster than Tetsurou at reacting, and manages to latch onto his arm before he can take off.

  


“What the hell, man?” Tetsurou says, struggling now as Bokuto maneuvers into a full-body restraint. “I said I’ll be fast. Let go.”

  


“I’m not letting you go there, Kuroo.”

  


“What, the grassy place?” Tetsurou laughs forcedly. “I just wanted to wash my hands, that’s all. There’s a stream there, right?”

  


“That’s what you said last time, you fucking…” he trails off.

  


Tetsurou squints at him. “What?”

  


“I mean, since we’re already at the door, you can just use some of the water from my water bottle,” Bokuto continues, painfully calmly. “No need to go that far.”

  


“It’s  _ not  _ far, that’s the thing,” Tetsurou says, twisting sideways to loosens Bokuto’s hold a little bit. If he could only get to the knife in his pocket…

  


“What, you’re gonna cut me? Is that it?” Bokuto hisses, suddenly aggressive, as if reading his mind. “What are you gonna do with your knife, Kuroo? You wanna hurt me, don’t you?”

  


“No, I don’t.”

  


No, Tetsurou doesn’t want to hurt Bokuto. They’re best friends, after all. With a violent jerk of his arm Tetsurou drops low to the ground away from Bokuto’s arms, and makes a fantastic leap off of his left foot. And he would’ve made it, too, if Bokuto didn’t love him so much, and more importantly, if Bokuto wasn’t excellent at throwing hand-sized objects with enough force and accuracy to knock out their intended target. 

  


Upon impact with the crown of his head, the flashlight goes out, and Tetsurou goes down, helplessly. He stays awake for just long enough to hear Bokuto utter the words, ‘god damn it, Kuroo, you didn’t even teach me how to make a fire with the paperclip and battery,’ and then a shuddery sigh, and then nothing.   


  


  


* * *

  


  


“So did you figure it out?”

  


“No,” Bokuto says, throwing a pebble at the tree opposite them. “I just shaped the paperclip and picked the lock completely blind, Kuroo.”

  


Tetsurou stares at him until their eyes meet.

  


“What?”

  


“Nothing. Thought you might’ve been joking.”

  


“Kuroo. Rest assured that I am never joking ever again.”

  


“Aw, Bo… hey, Yaku’s birthday is this weekend. We’ll go together. You’ll feel better in no time.”

  


“Yeah, I hope so.”

  


“I love you, you know that, right?”

  


“Yeah, love you too.” Bokuto nudges him in the shoulder. “Even if you’re a monster who strangles rabbits and eats them.”

  


Tetsurou winces. “That’s not funny.”

  


Bokuto leans over to kiss Tetsurou’s nose. “It wasn’t a joke,” he whispers.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> everyone interact,, i'd love to know how this fic made you feel !!


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